


Dating? Nonsense.

by AnAngryRat



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-24 22:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21566221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAngryRat/pseuds/AnAngryRat
Summary: A conversation with a student ignites a horrible realization in Aziraphale.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 145





	Dating? Nonsense.

**Author's Note:**

> All editing sins are mine and mine alone.

Aziraphale had worked at Tadfield High the home of the demons since he started what was supposed to be a short stint as an English teacher while he got his writing career off the ground. Twenty years later he still worked at Tadfield High. He knew the ins and outs of high school life like the back of his hand. Though if a student asked for his Snapchat he still snapped his fingers and asked “Like that?” He fought the unseen principal for teaching The Hate U Give and Maus in the classroom. He almost always did it anyway even though Michael the head of the department was against such _topics_. He listened to the inane dribble of the aide he hired so he didn’t have to read the terrible penmanship of hormonal young adults. He drank copious amounts of tea. He had… a cat. It’s name was Darwin, it ate his feet and liked to stare at him during his six o’clock meeting in the loo. Of all things he did not expect to become…comfortable with teaching. It was comfy.

Except.

There was a nervous student standing in front of his desk. Aziraphale stared at him. He could not for the life of him remember the child's first name.

“Was there something you needed, Winsleydale?” He said giving up trying to remember. He had twenty-five freshman essays on the Scarlett Letter to get through and he was sure this pendant little peasant would just elongate the process.

“It’s um…” Winsleydale stopped his voice a high pitched stringy sort of thing.

“Yes,” Azirphale guided. His voice was light and kind. He was also very tired and needed a refill on his mint tea.

“It’s Mr. Crowley, sir, he’s been, saying things.”

Aziraphale’s smile stiffened. He’d heard this before. “Oh?”

“Said George Bush is a war criminal and then described the various types of to—”

Aziraphale coughed. “I see. Well, that is something you would have to bring up with Mrs. Maze as she's the head of the history department.” He said worn and used to this kind of argument. Crowley liked chaos and socialism and when a student got him riled up enough he’d end up on top of a desk or two ranting about the end of capitalism and the eventual murder of several government officials.Students came to him with concerns because he was the ‘nice’ one. Odd since Crowley and Azirphale often spoke of children with the same derisive tone.

“Well, since you two are dating I thought you might want…”

Aziraphale lost the rest of what he was saying. The boys voice ground against his ears but he was stuck on one word. _Dating_. Since when? Aziraphale hadn’t heard anything about it. _Dating._ Crowley? Nonsense. They just went out every Friday for a post week drink to argue about students. _Dating._ That involved things like dates. Aziraphale has just seen every movie for the last ten years with Crowley because he was his best friend. _Dating._ That involved things like…love. His brain fried. He could feel the smoke coming from his ears. The fire alarm was ringing but nobody was there. Nonsense. _Dating_ involved kissing.

Houston. We Lost Him.

“Uhm…”

Crowley looked up from the comic he most definitely wasn’t supposed to be reading on school grounds. After receiving his tenure and realizing he had another twenty years to look forward to of teaching he’s been trying in odd roundabout ways to get fired. The Knowing One has not yet gotten around to it.

“Yes,” Crowley squinted at the kid. What was his first name? “Kid?” He finished.

“Mr. Aziraphale seems to be sick, sir.”

Crowley did his best not to look surprised. Or worst…worried. “How so?”

“He stopped moving and has been staring at the wall with a serene smile on his face for,” the teen looked at a well kept watch, “twenty minutes, sir.”

Odd. Crowley threw his comic over his shoulder. “Fascinating, lets have a look then.”

The path to Aziraphale’s room was so ingrained into Crowley’s muscle memory the jaunt up the stairs, that Aziraphale always complained about and third door to the left barely even crossed Crowley’s mind. The last time Aziraphale had a mental crack like that was…well never. The closest Crowley could think of was when they watched the ending to Game of Thrones and Aziraphale’s eye twitch the entirety of it. He entered the room slowly as if nothing was wrong and slunk into his stool next to the desk. It stayed where it was do to superglue from a few summers ago. Also the carved in threat of immolation should someone move it.

Aziraphale sat, his hands clasped in front of him, a tight but serene smile on his faces. Crowley shook a hand in front of him. Aziraphale’s eyes didn’t even dialate.

“Wow,” Crowley said.

“Yeah,” the kid said.

Crowley rolled his eyes forgetting that the kid was even there. “Scram, kid.” Crowley said jerking a thumb over his shoulder. The kid almost tripped in his haste. He turned back to Aziraphale. He snapped his fingers. Nothing.

“Twenty something years of teaching and you’ve finally lost it.” Crowley said lightly slapping Aziraphale’s face. It was soft. He forgot that he used lotion after he shaved. Never liked facial hair.

Aziraphale didn’t move. “Completely bonkers,” Crowley continued. He stood up and grabbed one of the copies of To Kill a Mockingbird sitting around. He gripped the publishing page the paper crinkling under his fingers. Just as he was about to pull he got hit in the head with a pen.

“Don’t you dare, you heathen.”

Crowley threw the book down making it flutter across the desk just to be contradictory. “Nice to see you back, space cadet.”

Aziraphale reorganized his desk brows furrowed dangerously. “About that…”

“Yes, dear?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “The students think we’re dating.”

Crowley blinked. “So? They’ve been saying that for years.”

Aziraphale fell out of his chair. “What?!?”

Crowley stood up and lent a helping hand getting him back to rights. “Yeah, mate, they’ve been asking me about it after class for ages now.”

“What in the heavens would give them that idea?” Aziraphale said fixing his impeccable suit from the middling 1900’s. Crowley could not express how Easter parade, springtime, gay Aziraphale was at all times. So instead he said, “We’ve been commuting in the same car for fifteen years.”

“We live next door to each other.”

“You moved next door when you heard my duplex allowed pets so you could get a cat, which confused the school so now I receive both of our mail.”

Aziraphale shook his head a strained twitch pulling at the corners of his lips. “There’s no way the students know that.”

“Every other Friday you bring me Starbucks.”

“Every other Friday _you_ bring _me_ Starbucks.”

“You’ve fixed my tie three times today.”

Aziraphale scoffed. “You shouldn’t work looking like a degenerate.”

Crowley sighed. “Look, angel, from the outside looking in we’ve been shagging for years now.”

Aziraphale bounced on his toes and looked aside. “Is that bad?”

“Not really. It’s just the status quo.”

“Should we be shagging?”

Crowley choked on air. “What?”

Aziraphale continued organizing and reorganizing the papers on his desk. “We’re dating aren’t we?”

Well, yes, Crowley thought. It wasn’t until Aziraphale moved next door instead of with him that Crowley got the message. The promblem wasn’t asexuality. It wasn’t in the closet. Aziraphale wasn’t into him. Which fair. That’s when Crowley just decided to continue on as if the thought never crossed his mind.

“Do you want to be dating?” Crowley asked. He didn't want to sound too hopeful.

Aziraphale’s frantic fiddling stilled. His round fingers gently resting on top of a failing students essay. “Do you?”

“That’s a cop out.”

“You were the one who answered a question with a question.”

“Fine! I would possibly…”

Crowley’s stomach fell out from beneath him. He felt the entire world leave him floating in space. “Yes?”

“…like to.”

“To?” Crowley led. He tried not to sound so goddamn hopeful.

“Date.” Aziraphale said. “You.” He added.

Crowley’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale said packing up his belongings.

“I didn’t really think you were interested.”

“I am.”

“So… now we’re dating.”

“yes.” Aziraphale said now slightly peeved. “We can shag to commemorate the occasion if you'd like. Now lets get a move on, The Ritz gets busy after six.”

“Alright, love. Whatever you want.” He muttered following the adorable little Aziraphale, who wanted a shag out of dirty ol’ him, out of the building.


End file.
